Today, at lunch together, your friend, who is also the only one in school who speaks your native language and your favorite gossip girl, told you that your friend, Minho, has been in love with you for a long time. You laughed at that theory. He's never shown you any romantic attention, especially since you already have a boyfriend. Just a friend.

But the devil is in the details.

In the evening, Minho was at your house again because you didn't want to be alone with yourself, so as not to start overthinking. While he was working quieter than water on his biology project on your laptop, furnished with textbooks, you were sitting on the bed. Trying to occupy yourself with some kind of dorky magazine from the 00s that you found at the bus stop today before school (maybe a homeless man was sleeping on it, but you're not up to the origin of this magazine on the bus stop right now). With each passing minute, you began to be tormented more and more by the very thoughts that you tried to avoid while spending time with friends. This time, your friend's words echoed inside your skull, saying that you were stupid if you didn't understand the little things about Minho's behavior next to you. And that this "cold" guy, who treats you like just a good friend, is always in computer science, while sitting with you at the same computer a little behind you, moves closer to smell the scent of your perfume and autumn sweater. At some point, it became so unbearably painful from these thoughts that you called out his name. Minho was in no hurry to turn to you, focusing on writing, calmly answering, and thereby awakening in you a wave of doubt that you would do something wrong now. Maybe your friend just misunderstood. Maybe he would laugh in your face at the assumption that he was in love with a taken girl.

"Mmm?"